04 A Slight Misunderstanding
by Scopet
Summary: Off camera scenes of Arthur's view of what's been going on in Camelot since Merlin arrived. Maybe he hasn't been so blind after all?
1. Chapter 1: That First Meeting Part 1

**A Slight Misunderstanding**

**Chapter 1 – That First Meeting, Part 1**

**Posted Aug 19, 2012**

**A/N So, I've been out of commission for a bit. Had to move. Had tons of training classes for work, took a trip to Pierrefonds and watched them film Merlin (great castle, I recommend the trip if you can do it), lost my job and was in the chorus of a community theater production of "The Mystery of Edwin Drood". Still don't have a stable computer connection set up in the house, but that's promised for Thursday, if the cable company can be believed (I'm still not convinced they have the order right this time!). Once that's up I should be in the mood to get back to the other stories. **

**In the interim, this story popped into my brain. Got to thinking about how Bradley has always said Arthur was misunderstood, and crossed that with the idea that Arthur couldn't be that stupid no to have noticed Merlin's magic all this time. **

**So, these are going to be a bunch of independent shorts of imagined off camera scenes depicting what still could be Arthur's side of the story of what's been going on in Camelot all these years. Probably not how TPTB are going to set up the reveal, but until they do, this version of events is still one of Shroeder's Kittens! This could still happen! (but probably won't)**

**I'll post things here when I think of them, but I really want to get on with my Doctor Who crossover and there's three other new epics sitting on my computer just waiting for life to settle down for me to get back to them and clean them up.**

**Enjoy!**

**Scop out**

~`0\~/0'~ ~`0\~/0'~ ~`0\~/0'~

From his perch amongst the Castle's roof-tops, Arthur had a good view of the newcomer locked in stocks in the courtyard below. He winced as one of the children tormenting the poor lad landed a bulls-eye with what must have been a particularly foul smelling rotten tomato. He could hear… what was his name again? Mer-something, let out a grunt that sounded exactly like a sound Arthur had made on one of his first hunting trips with his father, when, in his exuberance to retrieve his kill and present it to his father, he tripped over a branch and landed face first in a bush full of gaia-berries.

Arthur wasn't sure which was worse, the smell of the gaia-berries, or the look on his father's face when he'd finally managed to disentangle himself from the bush. Arthur had vowed from that day forward that he would never again trip in the woods… and he haddn't. Never again would he give his father cause to look at him that way.

And yet he _had_ just an hour earlier. When he had first encountered the boy, Arthur had begged him as a trouble maker, a drifter come into town, bent on causing trouble because he couldn't accept his place amongst his betters. Granted he had been mucking around with some of his knights, but Arthur quickly returned to his official role as guardian of the city when it became apparent the lad wasn't going to back down, even after all the chances Arthur had given him.

As a stranger, the newcomer may not have recognized Arthur as the prince, but he should have at least held respect for the uniform of a Knight of Camelot. And he certainly had no business interrupting a training session Those were bad signs all ways round. Best thing to do was to get him off the streets and let him taste the dungeon's for a couple of days then have the guards see him out of the city with a strong suggestion not to return.

That was before he ran into Morgana in the hallway a half hour before that.

"Arthur Pendragon! What did you do to Gaius's ward!" Morgana stormed toward him, fuming the sort of steam she usually saved for his father.

"What? Who?" Arthur stared at her puzzled. "Gaius has a ward?"

"Yes," Morgana said as if it were obvious. "As hard as that man works around here he finally gets some help and you—"

"Morgana, slow down! I don't know what you're talking about! "Arthur insisted. "When did Gaius get a ward?"

"He arrived yesterday," Morgana growled, "and you'd know that if you spent of your time concerned with the matters of the palace instead of tormenting your servants to show off in front of your friends!" Morgana folded her arms and turned away from Arthur. "The poor man probably won't be able to talk the boy into staying after the welcome you've given him! I hope you're happy with yourself!"

"I didn't do anything!" Arthur insisted. "I don't even know what Gaius's ward looks li-" Arthur stopped in mid sentence. He closed his eyes and brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Wait… let me guess. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes, on the gangly side?"

"You should have seen Gaius when I bumped into him just now. The man was frantic!" Morgana backed Arthur into the wall." He thought you were going to have the boy executed before I _assured_ him _you_ would do _no_ such thing!" She emphasized her words by poking her index finger at Arthur's brest bone.

"Why would I have him executed?"

"I don't know! Why would you have him arrested?"

"It was just an arrest for public disturbance!"

"Don't give me that! I saw that public disturbance! Why did you have him arrested!"

"He…"Arthur hesitated before answered. "He called me an ass."

Morgana's eyes went wide with rage. "About time someone did!"

"In public!" Arthur added. "I don't care who he is, I can't let something like that go unanswered. I'm the Prince of Camelot."

"I'm sure that will be of great comfort to the man who birthed you and took care of your every ill since then." Morgana said and stormed off down the hallway.

"Where's Gaius now?" Arthur called after her.

"In the throne room with your father!" Morgana called, not looking back at him.

"Great!" Arthur said, and he stormed off toward the throne room. "Just great!"


	2. Chapter 2: That First Meeting Part 2

**A Slight Misunderstanding**

**Chapter 2 – That First Meeting, Part 2**

**Posted Aug 27, 2012**

**A/N Picking up from where we were. Arthur's still on the rooftops. It's going to take a few chapters to get to where I want to get with this, but it should still be fun, so bear with me :) **

**Enjoy!**

**Scop out**

~`0\~/0'~ ~`0\~/0'~ ~`0\~/0'~

Splat!  
Some sort of rotted orange vegetable added itself to the colors embedded in the physician's ward's hair.

"Oh! That was a good one," Arthur heard the boy exclaim as he made a big face to exaggerate how disgusting the vegetable had been. That garnered a laugh from his tormentors. Their aim had been rather good. Arthur mused that Camelot would be well protected from invasion in future with this lot protecting their homes.

The boy, for his part, was taking his lumps well. No complaining or hard stares of indignation. He had simply accepted the fact that he was the afternoon's entertainment and had even established a playful banter with the children. By the time Gaius got through talking with him the boy probably did feel the punishment was well deserved. Gaius was good on guilt. Given the right timing, Gaius could even make his father feel sheepish.

~`0\~/0'~

After his conversation with Morgana, Arthur hurried off to the Council Chambers. Despite Morgana's indignation, or perhaps because of it, the conversation had convinced him he had been in the right. No one should be allowed to insult him in such a manor-especially in public-without there being consequences. Arthur was no ordinary person, after all. He was the Prince of Camelot. In a few months time, he was going to come of age and officially be made heir to the throne. To attempt to humiliate him was an attempt to humiliate the entire kingdom and the Pendragon's right to rule. The integrity of the kingdom demanded there be consequences. Granted, if he knew who the boy was he wouldn't have been so rough with his arrest…

And if you hadn't been showing off in front of your friends, you wouldn't have pushed things to the point where you had gotten the insult a voice in the back of his head that sounded a lot like Morgana's chided him. He pushed the thought aside. It was unimportant. What had been done was done. That's what had to be dealt with.. What he couldn't understand though was Gaius's over reaction to hearing of his ward's arrest. It must have been yesterday's execution, Arthur decided. Executions always put them all on edge. Although he never said anything, Arthur had the feeling the work of the axe man unsettled Gaius more than it did Morgana.

As Arthur entered the Council Chambers, Gaius was giving his petition to the king. Several of the Council members and the King's Guard were in attendance. All eyes turned in Arthur's direction. That's when he saw "The Look" flash again in his father's eyes. It was gone in an instant. Such matters were not for open court. But Arthur knew the conversation which was about to take place would carry with it a message of his father's disappointment meant for his ears alone. Problem was, Arthur wasn't exactly sure why his father was upset with him.

"Ah, Arthur. Good. I was just going to send for you." Uthur said casually, gesturing for Arthur to come forward. Arthur approached and stood next to Gauis.

"Father," he said, and acknowledged Gaius with an embarrassed head nod. Gaius appeared calm as he nodded back, but Arthur could see he man looked haggard, as if he hadn't slept at all the night before. Probably worried sick about where his ward had gotten off to.

Great! Arthur thought. How was I supposed to know I should have reported the arrest to Gaius?

"We were just talking about the altercation you had with that boy you mentioned to me yesterday." Uthur said in a casual tone that made Arthur fidget. Between his father and Gaius, at the moment, Arthur would have preferred to face a heard of starving volderin. "You may continue, Gaius."

"Thank you, Sire. As I was saying, the boy's newly just arrived. This is just a misunderstanding, I assure you. The boy had no idea who Arthur was. He grew up in a small village just across the border. They've had to fend for themselves. Although he is aware of the concept of nobility, he's never had to live in it's wake. The closest thing the boy's seen to even a knight has been the occasional common soldier passing through, returning home from a war-"

Who were normally drunk and disorderly and prone to cause trouble in the small villages they passed through, Arthur thought. He was glad Gaius didn't elaborate on the comparison. Arthur had certainly not been drunk during his "altercation". He would never be so irresponsible as to train under the influence of alcohol.

"-He simply misinterpreted the situation." Gaius continued. "I must take the blame for that. With the preparations for the celebration, I completely lost track of time. I wasn't prepared to introduce the boy properly. It was my fault for not instructing him in these matters. Sire, I would ask you show clemency. I afraid I'm a bit new in the ways of guiding the young."

"Trust me, it doesn't get any easier with experience." Uthur said, intentionally not letting his gaze drift to his son. Arthur felt the intended blow. "All right, as you have vouched for him, I will see to your ward's release. However, as you have indicated, the boy is in need of certain instruction, He must learn that there are consequences to his actions. An afternoon in the stocks might do him some good. Arthur, you were the wrong party in this incident. Will that suffice?" Uthur fixed his son a stare which communicated quite well that it better be.

"Yes Sir," Arthur said.

"Good," Uthur said with a smile and nodded to one of the guards to attend to the matter. "Gaius, I'll leave you to explain things to your ward." Turning his attention to the rest of the court, the King said "We're done for today. Guards, you are dismissed."

With that, the court began clearing out. Arthur hesitated before he turned to leave. He made it about two steps.

"Arthur, a word.."

~`0\~/0'~

"The Court Physicians ward?" His father was pacing. That was never a good sign.

"He started it!" Arthur said, knowing it was the wrong defense as soon as the words left his mouth.

"That's not the point, Arthur! The point is you are supposed to be the defender of the people, not the one the people need defending from. A king has to make harsh decisions. The people have to know that, even if they don't understand those decisions, those decisions were made in their best interests, that those decisions were based on law and not because he was trying to show off! We defeated Magic in this kingdom due to the diligence of the army and the vigilance of the people Do you really think we could have done so if the people thought the war against Magic was based on a personal whim?"

"I wasn't showing off!" Arthur insisted. "He challenged my authority and insulted me!"

"And before that? What were you doing then?" Uthur crossed his arms, waiting for Arthur to make an obvious connection that was eluding him.

"I was… implementing a new training technique."

"That's not the way I heard it."

"Perhaps I was a little be hard on Thomas"

"Really Arthur, I couldn't care less about how you treat your servants, this is a matter of why!"

"I don't understand." Arthur said, feeling as if he were a small child once again.

His father rolled his eyes "You were showing off in front of your men! You're an important person, Arthur. Only unimportant men need make such displays to compensate for their feelings inferiority. It's a sign of weakness!"

"I wasn't-I didn't mean to-" Arthur stammered, trying to find the words to defend himself.

"As a result you gave part of your importance to this boy, however small it might be. Seeds grow if they're allowed. That's the problem. Unless, of course, you've grown tired of being the People's Hero."

"Of course not!" Such a thing was unthinkable to Arthur.

"He's the Court Physician's ward. People will be seeing him every day helping Gaius tend to the sick and suffering. You'll be seeing him every day, You'll be seen seeing him every day. If there is any animosity between you two after his punishment, it will remind people of the incident and the weakness that caused it. I will not have that! This situation has to be nipped in the bud!"

"Yes, Father."

"Fix this, Arthur, or I will."

~`0\~/0'~

Splat!

Gaius passed by and gave a gentle laugh at his ward's predicament. It was all for the lad's own good after all. His father had said as much. Arthur felt a tinge of jealousy. If only his own inadequacies could so easily be washed away by a sea of rotted produce. But such things were not so easily done for Royals.

A last barrage of vegetables ended round two of the children's attack on their hapless victim and they ran to collect more ammunition. During the lull, Gwen walked up to the boy and began chatting. Arthur wasn't really surprised. Morgana probably had suggested it and Gwen was always a sucker for lost causes. What did surprise him though was that Merlin - that was his name - appeared to be flirting with Gwen. Covered with food and smelling like who knows what, and he had Gwen… blushing?

But… girls were supposed to go for the strong, viral, save-the-world type, weren't they? Not the scrawny and looking-pathetic-because-they-were-covered-with-muck-locked-in-the-stocks type. At least that what his father had told him when they had had 'The Talk'. Well well well. It seems there were some things beyond his father's wisdom.

His father could be wrong about things, Arthur knew that, and this was one of those times. Nothing more was going to fall out of this than Morgana's maid gaining a romantic interest and becoming a bit pre-occupied from her duties. It would serve Morgana right.

Didn't say much for Gwen's choice of men, though.

~`0\~/0'~ ~`0\~/0'~ ~`0\~/0'~

**A/N: It's always interesting to see the names people come up with for Arthur's original servant as it's nevr mentioned in the show. Even the proper sources don't agree. Morris is the name used** **in the books** **that got published based on the show, but in the script of "The Last Dragonlord that got circulated around the web in a pdf format, the character's name is given as Thomas. I went with Thomas instead of Morris. Morris reminds me of a cat :)**


	3. Chapter 3: Heros and Villans

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everybody. Glad you're enjoying it. I've got a lot of ideas for story's down the line as there's 4 years of episodes to write "missing scenes" for. **

**servant123,**** thanks for the corrections. I had italicized Arthur's thoughts in my version on my computer, but then I used the cut and paste option to load in the story instead and didn't realize that option doesn't preserve formatting. I'll change that around.**

**Scop Out**

**A Slight Misunderstanding  
**

**Chapter 3 – Heros and VIllans  
**

**Posted Sept 2, 2012**

~`0\~/0'~ ~`0\~/0'~ ~`0\~/0'~

Arthur sat in his bedroom window's alcove, knees up to his chin, his back against the alcove's wall. He poked idly at the plaster with his knife, a miniature mirror to his sword. Meanwhile, his dinner was sitting on his table growing cold. Thomas had made him something special-roast duck in cherry sauce with sweet potatoes and creamed spinach on the side-most likely to apologize for his earlier behavior, but it had had unintentional effects.

The food sat there, mocking the Prince of Camelot. Just like everything else had today. The Mid-year days were long. Too long, in Arthur's opinion, at least this day this day had been. Usually, he enjoyed the bright, sunlit hours that wouldn't see a sunset some nights as late as 11:00pm. But today had been different. And now he had much, much too time to think.

His father had been right, of course. Uther was always right… except when he was wrong. This wasn't one of those times. Arthur looked out over the Citadel's square and to the lower town beyond. Those were his people out there, those he'd sworn to protect with his life. At the moment, though, the thought didn't swell him with pride as it usually did.

It wasn't that he had never been insulted before, Morgana was a expert at it, and his father was constantly berating him whenever he displayed any trait even slightly inappropriately princely. He had been insulted by traveling knights wanting to get a rise out of him before a tournament and cursed by bandits and enemy soldiers while bringing them death after battling them in the field. But this... this was different.

But he had _never_ been disapproved of by his people.

At least… not that he saw.

Ever since the incident with Gaius's ward, he'd noticed an ... _indifference_ in the attitude of some of the towns people and the servants towards him. He'd catch disapproving glances out of the corner of his eye that wouldn't quite disappear when to turned to look.

Over and over again he played the incident in his mind, but still, he couldn't see it any differently. The boy had been the aggressor in the situation, but everyone was treating Arthur as if _he_ were somehow the _villain_. It was very uncharacteristic. Not what he was used to at all.

Everyone in the square had had their eyes on the young prince, wanting to catch a glimpse of his prowess and awe over it as usual. And as usual his skill would not fail to please. Thomas had been an idiot for putting the target in the sun in the first place. He _knew_ better, but something had been distracting him all day. His friends had approved of the little game he had invented to teach Thomas to keep his mind on his job so why should Arthur think any different?

And then some idiot called him an _ass_!

_"Yeah, right,"_ Arthur chided himself. "_Some idiot who didn't know who you were or the glory you had brought Camelot in battle, someone who saw past all that and just saw you for what he truly were and didn't know enough to hold his tongue and instead tell you how noble and brave you were all the time like everyone else did." _The boy just called Arthur on what he saw: Some buffoon being an ass.

He wasn't the villain, he was the _hero_. He was the First Knight of Camelot, Protector of the Realm. He was the one that went after the great beasts that threatened in the forests. He was the one that stood on the front lines of the battle field, defending the citizens of Camelot from foreign invaders and bandits and magical ills with his life. His father had demanded nothing less. Now, just because he decided to blow off some steam and some village idiot called him on it, he was the _villain_? Hardly seemed fair. The boy had started it, after all.

So why then had his people found fault with their Prince?

_No!_ Arthur shook his head. This Merlin fellow didn't know him. Didn't know how many times he had risked his life for Camelot, putting his own life at risk in front of others, just so he could prove to his father that he wasn't... wasn't what? An _ass? _ Arthur balled up his free hand and pounded it against the wall.

"Could I really be that blind?" Arthur wondered. "To not be able to even comprehend the fault within?" The thought had never occurred to him before. He had no idea why it was suddenly undoing him now. He couldn't even think of a name for what he was feeling. It was prickly and raw, an almost nagging tug at a part of him that protested it wanted to stay buried.

_Damn it! _How was he supposed to know when he was behaving poorly when no one would tell him!

That's what mothers were for…

knock knock

It was a timid knock rapping on his chamber door, breaking Arthur from his thoughts

"Enter," he yelled absently. Arthur jabbed his knife hard into the alcove wall and let it stay there, stuck in the stone.

Thomas entered and looked disappointingly at the wasted food on the table. "I'm sorry, Sire, you haven't eaten yet. I can come back later."

He turned to go, but Arthur stopped him. "Take it," Arthur told his servant. "I haven't been very hungry today."

"Of course, Sire." Thomas said.

Arthur went back to staring out the window, but Thomas wasn't leaving. He turned back to the man. Thomas bit his bottom lip and was fidgeting on his feet as if something left unsaid was laying heavy on his mind. Was his servant really trying to get up the nerve to tell him off, Arthur wondered. That was a bit too much to hope for. "Is there something else?"

"Yes, Sire, I-I just wanted to… That is to say I wanted to…"

Arthur wasn't in the mood for waffling. "Quit prattling, man. I've not the patience today. Out with it."

Thomas quit fidgeting and took a deep breath. "I-I respectfully request to be released from your service… Sire"

Arthur nodded. He should have expected this. "This doesn't have anything to do what happened today, does it?" Despite the pay, Thomas wouldn't have been the first servant to leave the Prince's service over of the demands of the job.

"No, no! Nothing like that," Thomas insisted, waiving his hand and flashing a sheepish grin. "That was just a bit of bad timing, that was. We've been planning this for awhile now."

Arthur leaped from the alcove. "You _planned_ this? You and Gaius's ward?" All day he had been berating him self over… what? A joke? Arthur stormed towards the traitorous fiend, prepared to strangle the life out of him.

"No! Of course not!" Thomas took a few confused steps backwards from Arthur's wrath. "W-what makes you think I'm marrying Gaius's ward… my lord?"

Arthur stopped in his tracks. "What? Who said anything about… _Oh! _You're getting married?"

"To my betrothed, yes." Thomas said hopefully.

"Ah." Arthur realized his mistake. He steadied himself to regain his princely composure. Everyone in town probably knew Thomas was getting married. Just wasn't the sort of news a servant would bother his employer with. It wasn't like they had the sort of relationship Morgana had with Gwen. Thomas had only been his manservant for three years.

"Who's the lucky girl?" Arthur asked in the proper decorum.

"She's a servant here in the castle. Her name's Sophie. I doubt you know her. Blond, about this high?" Thomas held his hand level at the height of his nose.

Arthur had to admit, he couldn't place her. Thomas had just described a number of girls who roamed the smaller corridors of the castle.

"We've been saving for years and we finally have enough. There's a tavern over in Willowdale we've had our eye on. I've just heard word the owner's accepted our offer."

Thomas should have told him. He might have been able to help him get the place sooner.

"When do you plan on leaving?"

"Not until after the celebrations." Thomas assured him "Can't leave you fending on your own through that."

"Well, then. I wish you well. Let me know your official last day. I'll see that there's something extra in your pay check."

"Thank you, Sire."

"Thomas?" Arthur said before his manservant got to the door. "Do you really think you can handle a tavern?"

"Well, we've been running this place." Thomas said with a grin. "A tavern should be a snap. Only five rooms, a good hearty breakfast and supper for about thirty people or so, if we're lucky, and in the evening, I'm going to play the lute while Sophie sings."

"I've heard your lute playing, can't say much for that." Which wasn't true, and Thomas knew that Arthur knew that. Thomas was actually an accomplished Lute player. He'd even given Arthur a few lessons before. "But the girl? She sings well, then?

"I've never heard the Lady Helena sing, but my Sophie…" Thomas's face beamed. "She sings like an angel."

~`0\~/0'~ ~`0\~/0'~ ~`0\~/0'~

**A/N:Promise, next Chapter's about the fight scene.**


	4. Chapter 4: A Night in the Tavern

**A/N: Okay, sorry about the length of time in posting, but this chapter was a LOT harder to write than I thought. The mace fight between Arthur and Merlin is SO iconic to the show. I just didn't want to re-write just what we saw in the episode. That's when the plot bunnies started running ramped, demanding I chase them. Hopefully, I didn't fall into their trap and the chapter below makes as much sense to you as it does to me. **

**After a lot of rewrites, a lot of editing, and a little bit of jumping around in time (which is ironic as I'm writing a Merlin/Doctor Who crossover concurrently with this story called **_**Once Upon a Midnight Dreary**_** -plug plug), I give to you my next chapter in this ever evolving story.**

**Enjoy :)**

**Scop Out**

**PS: the two knight with Arthur were never named. I just gave them these names to give them a background.**

**A Slight Misunderstanding**

**Chapter 4 – A Night at the Tavern**

**Posted Sept 24, 2012**

Well... That was unexpected.

More than that, it had been fun. About a minute fifteen worth of fun Arthur estimated. Definitely, more than a minute he allowed his knight candidates for their test. And it had been ..._fun!_ He wouldn't have expected a fight like that from a peasant. Especially one built like a twig like Merlin was.

If he could get half that determination, that much focus in the eyes of the candidates for the knights he'd seen lately, he wouldn't be as worried as he was for the future of Camelot's defense. The vast majority of the Cream of Camelot, the noble men who would have been the fathers of a vast pool from which to pick the current generation of knights, had perished during bringing about the Great Purge, either through fighting magic or being accused of it.

With the rash of magical creatures that had turned up as of late, Camelot was finding it's forces slowly diminished. One here, two there. Each attack and been thwarted, but not without the loss of a man or two each time. They were the older men, who had seen their share of magic in their youth, but had slowed with age at the moment when it mattered, their knowledge and skill lost forever. They were the younger men, full of promise and pride, but not yet seasoned enough to know the true dangers that they faced, their strength and their promise laid waste.

Maybe there was an untapped resource out there of good men who'd make good knights, despite the position of their birth. Why not grant a commoner knighthood if he were just as loyal, just as strong, just as brave as any knight born of noble blood. But Arthur knew such things were wishful thinking. His father would never repeal the First Code of Camelot. Uther had gained his kingdom by honoring the First Code. It has seen him through the Great Purge. On many things, Uther was still living in the past. Arthur's responsibility was for the future. And he wasn't liking the future he was begining to see,.. unless something changed.

~`0\~/0'~

"I can't believe I missed this!" Leon said after nearly spitting out a mouthful of mead.

A proper night had finally set upon Camelot and Arthur and a few of the knights were spending it in Camelot's premier tavern, the Rising Sun, where they met with Sir Leon, fresh from evening patrol. The discussion of the fight didn't come up til they were well into their forth round and beyond any fear or care that Arthur might take offense at the tale's retelling.

Leon shook his blond locks in disbelief. "We _are_ talking that scrawny kid who was in the stocks earlier today? _He_ had you down and was asking you to yield?"

"With not even landing a blow, I might add," Sir Owain added. "Which, technically would be _less _than one." A quick glance at Arthur, the Prince's blue eyes staring back at him told the youngster of the group that he may have overstepped decorum with that last comment. He slunk back in his chair and hid behind a quick sip from his mug. He only breathed again when Sir Dennis ruffled his hair. Being the youngest of their ranks had made Owain the sort of mascot to the other knights.

"Which just goes to show I wasn't seriously fighting him," Arthur lied.

"I thought," Leon continued with a slight slur "your father wanted you to end things with the physician's ward."

"Exactly," Arthur raised his mug in toast and took a big slug of the smooth honey ambrosia. "And they are."

"How does having a full drawn out brawl-with mace's I might add-end things?"

Even in his inebriated state, Arthur could tell Leon's questions were taking on a more accusative tone. Normally, as Prince, Arthur wouldn't put up with such things from a subordinate but Arthur wasn't feeling "normal" as of late. Besides, from a strictly military standpoint, Leon wasn't a subordinate. He was a member of the King's Patrol. As such reported directly to Uther and was one of his lesser advisers. In some ways, Leon had a better relationship with his father than Arthur did. If asked, Leon would tell his father exactly what was said here tonight... What he remembered of it anyway. Drunk or not, Arthur knew he was going to have to choose his next words carefully.

"That is where brilliant strategy and a quick mind come into play."

"I'm still lost," Leon said. "You're going to have to start over from the beginning."

"Okay, okay. But I just want you to know. I didn't start it." Arthur put his tankard down and took a breath to begin the tale. This was going to take some quick thinking. He couldn't exactly tell Leon the truth, now, could he...

"He was asking for it!" Owain jumped in. "He just came barging through-" Dennis shoved another tankard of mead in Owain's direction to silence him.

"I think Arthur can take it from here, Owain!"

Arthur continued. "We were in the market place, trying to find something for that clumsy oaf of as servant of mine -did you know he was getting married?"

"That's all Morgana and Gwen and the other servants have been talking about for the last two months, yeah." Leon said matter of factually, as if it were common knowledge.

"Right," Arthur said, pretending he knew all along as well. Leon knew, the servants knew, as did most of the merchants when he told them what he was looking for and why. Even Morgana knew. He saw Thomas for the better part of every day. _So why didn't I know?_ It still frustrated him.

~`0\~/0'~

Arthur had spent the previous hour before the epic battle in the market, under the pretense of finding a departing gift for Thomas, but really, he just wanted to get his mind off his thoughts. He could have easily have given Thomas a couple of extra gold coins with his final pay and the man would have been ecstatic, but then he remembered that little flirtation he had witnessed between Gwen and Gaius's ward... _while he was still in the stocks! _

_What would Morgana do if it were Gwen getting married? _ Arthur wondered. She wouldn't send her off with just an extra bit of pay. Morgana would have agonized for month over the appropriate send off gift as a token of their... well... friendship. Those two were inseparable. Arthur didn't have that sort of time, nor that sort of relationship with Thomas. But a small token of ... something... was called for, he supposed. Appreciation was a stronger sentiment than he actually wanted to convey-it would be embarrassing for both of them-but Arthur figured an appropriately sized gift would send the right message. And such a gift would prove that _the opinion of a certain foreign peasant whom I've never even met before about resemblances to a certain beast with long ears was way off the mark! _

He dragged Sir Dennis and Sir Owain along to help him with the task. They were always good for a laugh. Unfortunately, they weren't so good at helping him pick out a gift. Everything Arthur even glanced at was met with a chorus of how wonderful and thoughtful of a gift it would make.

"You've excellent taste, Sire. Shall we make the purchase so we can get on?" Sir Dennis asked.

Perhaps it had been a bad idea to have promised them a trip to the tavern after the gift had been sorted. Arthur started picking out nonsense gifts until the two of them figured out what he was doing, and then they all _did_ have a good laugh.

"How about a quill?" Arthur said as they passed through the ink sellers section of the market. "He could use it to keep his ledgers or something."

"Oh, get him one of those big ostrich feathers." Sir Owain suggested. "I can just see it bouncing around while he's trying to be all business-like taking inventory."

"Definitely something he wouldn't get himself," Arthur agreed with a snicker. The idea of Thomas owning his own business still struck him as funny.

"Does he even know how to write?" Sir Dennis asked.

"I'm not sure," Arthur said. "The matter never came up."

Sir Owain shook his head. "He doesn't need to know how to write to keep a ledger. Just make a few marks on some paper to keep track of the stock and the day's take. It can't be that hard to run a tavern."

"Yeah, not like running you lot," the Prince of Camelot joked. Owain was too young ever to have been in charge of anything yet. No idea of the responsibility. Even on his father's estate he had three older brothers handling affairs. That would have to change soon. Arthur made a mental note to assign Owain in the morning to keeping the inventory of Camelot's weaponry.

"I've got a better idea," Sir Dennis said. "Come on!" He took off running to one of the further stalls. Arthur and Owain ran after him. It didn't take them long to figure out Sir Dennis was heading for the weapons vendors.

They lost themselves, looking at all the pretty sharp and pounding things for awhile. Most of them were useless for a knight as the Royal Blacksmith could make just about any weapon balanced exactly to the body and style of the wielder. But there were some smaller items, things that could come in handy in a fist fight or in defense from an assassination attempt. The sort of things you might not want others knowing you had on your person. Arthur also found a couple of mace's he liked. They had a larger swing radius than Camelot's standard issue. He wanted to try them out in practice a few times to see if the feature was actually useful or if it slowed the striking speed of the weapon. Slow still meant dead, even if your weapon did have a stronger striking force.

"We still have to find something for suitable for a servant." Arthur said as he gave Owain the honor of carrying the pair of maces for him.

"Why don't you just get him a dagger," Dennis suggested.

"Be serious. You've seen Thomas around weapons. I don't want him accidentally killing himself before the wedding."

"I said a dagger, not a sword. Anyone who can wield a kitchen knife can wield a dagger."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You'd think."

"I don't see why you're fretting so much over this." Owain said, carefully slipping the maces into his belt "Whatever you give him, it would be a Royal Gift. A person of that standing? It will be a family treasure for generations. Even if you gave him a rock, it would be a royally gifted rock."

_Great_, Arthur thought. _Everything I touch turns to gold_. He remembered an old bedtime story Gaius used to tell him when he was a child, about a king with a similar problem. That was supposed to be a curse, wasn't it? Maybe the tale didn't need such a literal interpretation after all.

"Why don't you just give him one of those daggers you were throwing at the target he was carrying yesterday?" Owain suggested. "That would give him something to remember you by."

"That's not the point!" an exasperated Dennis chided his younger companion. "We don't want the imp stabbing his master with his own present now do we?"

In many way's Owain reminded Arthur of a younger version of himself. A bit cocky, with a gift of saying exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time. And in a year or two, when he reached his full build, he was going to be a force to be reckoned with on the tournament field.

"Sorry," Sir Owain said seriously... and then started giggling. "Can you imagine Arthur in a fight with Thomas? It would be more ludicrous than that tussle you had with the physician's ward."

They all burst into laughter on that image. Arthur was glad he could finally put the incident into perspective. He felt kind of foolish now, thinking back about how much he'd let the comments of a peasant disrupt his life.

"Speak of the devil." Sir Dennis bumped Arthur on his shoulder to get his attention and pointed towards the city gate.

Arthur looked up saw a dark tuft of hair on a tall, thin waif of a boy walking towards them.

"My, my, my," Owain said. "Got his head in the clouds, that one."

Arthur froze as the boy approached. Suddenly, all thought of the day's contemplations being foolish vanished.

"He's a peasant. I doubt he could rub two thoughts together." Sir Dennis joked.

"Unless it's about a girl," Sir Owain speculated.

Both knights looked at each other and smirked. "Gwen"

Arthur paid not attention to his companions' banter. Sure, his father wanted him to calm the waters with the physician's ward. But Arthur saw a far greater opportunity approaching that had to be handled quite delicately. He couldn't count on fate throwing him this lush of an opportunity again.

"She took quite a fancy to him yesterday, didn't she."

"Well, the stocks did make him look like he had shoulders."

"Or maybe it's the Lady Helen. She's quite a hansom woman. Did you see her riding in last night?"

"He best be careful there. The King has his eye on her."

"You really think so?"

"They are having a private dinner tonight, aren't they?"

"Must be nice to be king."

Uther had not been born to be king. He had to fight for that right. Through his fight for the crown, Uther had honed his existence, smoothed away his flaws and burrs until what was left was fit to be a king. It was why his father demanded his son be the best of all the Knights of Camelot, why he sent him against all the fearsome dark that threatened Camelot instead of sending some lesser knight more expendable than his only heir. That Arthur, too, could be polished by the brush with Death.

"He's coming this way," Dennis said.

"Not even looking where he's walking, is he?"

But there was still something missing, Uther hadn't been treated to a youth with everyone knowing that everything he touched had a royal import to it. Instead, Uther had grown up with a form of honesty Arthur couldn't buy with all the gold in Camelot.

"Careful, my lord, he might try to knock you down with the wind from his mighty fists." Owain said.

"This is just too pathetic."

It was just too perfect, Arthur thought. Everything Gaius said in the Council Chambers about the boy not understanding the concept of the Nobility being his betters raced through his mind. It collided with what he had heard his father say about his friend Gorlois, how he had always cherished the honesty of the man's fortitude, holding fast, even when his King had stubbornly clung to his own opinions until Gorlois finally made him see truth.

"Shh, shh." Sir Dennis cautioned the younger knight. "Let's see if he notices where he's heading."

"Oh, he wouldn't dare!"

Death would come to every man in it's own time. Truth was far more elusive, promising a much more abrasive and finer polish. Arthur had experienced it's brush only once. He wanted more. And just now, the only person blind enough to have used it on Uther's son in all of Camelot had walked right past him.

"Oh my God!" Owain nearly laughed himself to the ground. "I mean, I know he's new and all, but he does have to learn sometimes, doesn't he?"

Sir Dennis looked at his prince. "Tell me you really aren't going to let him get away with that"

"Oh, I really, really can't," Arthur said, a dangerous twinkle in his eyes. He had to know if the boy was up to the task, if he wouldn't back down. Through brilliant strategy and a quick mind, Arthur summed up his opponent. He knew _exactly_ what to say to get exactly what he wanted.

"How's your knee walking coming along."

"Oh, you really, really didn't," Leon said, wondering if he should quit drinking now. He was going to need his whits about him tomorrow once Uthur got wind of this.

"Oh, I really really did," Arthur smiled. _Just keep thinking I'm an idiot, Leon._ It was a far easier explanation than the truth would have been.

"A night in the dungeon, an afternoon in the stocks, and he still doesn't know who Arthur is!" Owain chimed in. After a disproving glare from Dennis, Owain shut himself up with the last dregs from his mug.

"I _know_, he's from some border town where they aren't used to having anyone important around," Arthur said, "But what if that had been my father and his entourage? What if it had been a visiting noble? What if, heaven forbid, it was _me_ _and a bunch of my friends_? I couldn't let that pass, for the boy's own good, of course."

"Of course." Dennis agreed.

"Off coursh." Owain tried to add before being pushed to lean back in his chair by Dennis

"Of course," Arthur continued. "Now, here's where the brilliant bit comes in. I couldn't just arrest him again. Father would have a fit, That's when it came to me. How do _we_ normally settle our differences?"

Leon rested his head on the base of his palm and sighed. "Field of combat."

"Precisely." Arthur beamed at his own brilliance. Leon hadn't even expected a secondary motive to Arthur's actions. "You get all the aggression out in the open, test each others metal, and when it's all over, you walk away with a new found respect for each other. Truce established."

"But... the boy's not a knight."

"Try telling that to Merlin." Denis said louder than he meant to.

"He's a peasant," Leon tried to explain. "They don't think the same way-"

"That's why I couldn't outright challenge him to a duel on the tournament grounds at dawn, now could I?"

"So you goaded him into fighting you in the market?"

"I haven't been participating in tournaments since I was five years old without knowing how to get someone's damper up."

At first, Arthur thought Merlin was just going to walk away. After the taunt he'd just given, that would have been a disaster. The plan was to get the boy into a small skirmish then win graciously, much like the fights he used when evaluating the knight's candidates to see if they were ready for their final test Everyone watching would know he was conveying the boy an honor... unless the boy didn't take the bait...

If Merlin walked away all Arthur's good intentions would be left undone. It would seem that the Prince was bullying Gaius's ward again. Arthur couldn't have that. In for a penny, in for a pound, as it were.

"Awe, don't run away," Arthur said in his most patronizing voice.

Merlin stopped. A moment's indecision before the boy decided to commit himself to Arthur's lure. .

"From You?"

"Thank God!" Arthur said emphatically, and he meant it too. Finally there was someone in town who hadn't been brought up to grovel at his every word-well, other than Morgana, but she didn't count, she was a girl. He was afraid the punishment from their confrontation the other day, and what must have been a constant berating from Gaius, had badgered the boy into silence. "I thought you were deaf as well as dumb."

Merlin turned around with more confidence than someone of his ilk should have possessed. "Look, I've told you you're an ass. I just didn't realize you were a royal one."

_Ah, to be sixteen again,_ Arthur thought. Boys were full of pride and overconfidence at that age. Arthur could feel the tension build in his companions behind him, the threat of weapons readied to be drawn if the boy didn't back down. _Damn, they could spoil everything. _But Merlin wasn't backing down. _Or maybe not._

"Oh, what are you going to do? Get your daddy's men to protect you?"

_Good_, Arthur thought. _He's played this game before._ No one had a mouth on them like that without getting into a few scraps in their lifetime. And Merlin was still alive and fit, so he obviously had been successful at defending himself. This could get interesting. He'd still have to take it easy on the boy, though. There wasn't that much to the lad but bone and sinew. It wasn't his fighting skills Arthur was testing.

Arthur laughed, and managed to convey to the others that he planned to handle this situation himself. "I could take you apart with one blow."

"I could take you apart with less than that."

"Are you sure?" Arthur had him on the hook now. Wait, _less than one blow?_ How was that supposed to work? Never mind, the boy probably just got carried away with the banter and didn't realize what he had just said. It didn't matter.

Dennis and Owain finally caught on to Arthur's apparent intentions to teach the boy a lesson and were egging on the battle. Merlin obliged them by taking off his jacket and throwing it to the ground. The peasant equivalent to throwing a gauntlet, Arthur supposed. Arthur had no plans for this to be a simple peasant brawl. Without the jacket, Merlin may have gained some speed and agility, but he'd just thrown away the closest thing to armor he possessed. He'd regret that.

Arthur signaled to Owain to give him back the maces he'd purchased earlier. Now was as good a time to test them out as any. The younger knight smiled, expecting some sort of minor carnage. Time to see if the physician's ward was all mouth. Mace's were scary looking things. Would the idea of fighting with one frighten the boy off? Arthur was betting no.

"Here you go." Arthur tossed him one of the maces. Merlin jumped away from the flying projectile. That was disappointing. But he didn't leave the weapon lying in the dirt and take tail and run either. Merlin bent over and picked it up. The game was on.

Arthur twirled his mace menacingly above his head and slowly approached his opponent.

Merlin didn't making any move to defend himself. He was still trying to figure out what to do with the odd weapon.

"Come on, then," Arthur taunted. He wanted to see how fast the boy could think under pressure. "I warn you, I've been trained to kill since birth." There was a hint in that statement if the boy was smart enough to pick up on it. _When facing a more skilled opponent, take the opportunity to learn from him-quickly if you want to live. Watch me, this is how you use a mace._

"Wow," Merlin blinked. "How long have you been training to be a prat?"

Arthur lowered his mace and tried to keep from laughing. It wasn't the response he was expecting, but it was exactly what he was looking for. The boy wasn't going to back down, even with a mace threatening him.

"You can't address me like that." _At least not in public_, Arthur thought. Arthur didn't want everyone thinking it was okay to call him a prat... which he wasn't in the first place. He was being menacing with his mace, not pratish. This was all just pre-fight banter. Arthur had to be careful. Words like prat where the kind of things that could stick.

"I'm sorry. How long have you been training to be a prat, My Lord?" Merlin gave a long, low, mocking bow. Oh yes, the physicians ward had played this game before. Apparently the boy _had_ learned something, but it was from their encounter yesterday. Merlin wasn't going to make the first move, let himself get tangled up and arrested again without doing some damage by making a few choice comments first. He was trying to goad Arthur into taking the first swing. Fine, if that's the way he wanted it. Arthur smiled, then obliged. It was his game, after all.

~`0\~/0'~

"And you thought the mace would be an appropriate weapon of choice for clearing the air?" Leon asked.

"What were we supposed to fight with, swords?" Arthur asked. "I doubt if he could lift one, let alone not get pulled in circles by his first swing. I had no intention of killing him-"

"And the mace is such a non lethal weapon."

"-Killing or humiliating him," Arthur continued. "It's an easy weapon to get the hang of. All you need is the proper stance and to be able to feel the rhythm of the swing. It has a short, visible spin radius, so unless the wielder lets go in mid swing, anyone in the vicinity knows how far they've got to stay back, and if it does connect, you know exactly how far the puncture's went. It's a lot easier to treat than a stab wound."

Sir Leon stared at his prince in disbelief.

"Tell him about the fight!" Sir Dennis insisted.

Arthur shook his head. Somehow his little skirmish with Merlin had morphed into epic proportions, taking on the air of a great battle, as if he had been up against a dragon or some great, all powerful sorcerer instead of a cocky peasant lad from across the boarder. Fine, if that's what they wanted. Arthur went into his best story telling mode, It wasn't as if he could _really_ tell them what was crossing through his mind during that fight.

"There, the braggart stood before me. Lashing wildly with it's sharp pointed words. For the honor of Camelot, I approached, undaunted, my weapon held high. The fearsome twig backed away, but still, he would not yield the day."

The whole table burst into laughter. Sir Leon nearly choked on his mead. "Seriously," the elder knight asked when he could speak again. "Just how drunk are you?"

~`0\~/0'~

Arthur backed Merlin across the open ground. Merlin wasn't doing so well under pressure, Arthur thought, which was disappointing, considering the bravado he'd shown during the banter portion of the fight. He still was trying to figure out how to use the mace to protect himself, but he wasn't giving up or turning tail and running either, so that was something. Merlin may have looked like a frightened rabbit, but at least he was still in the game. If this had been a real fight, though, the boy'd be dead several times over by now.

By the time Merlin did get up the confidence to take his first swing-a whole six seconds into the fight-Merlin had let himself be pushed into the stalls. Time wasted is something you can never regain in a fight. What would have been a clear swing in open ground just a second or two earlier, got tangled up in a hanging basket and Merlin managed to loose his weapon trying to free it. Second strike against him. The boy wasn't aware of his surroundings at all... or so Arthur thought at the time.

At that point, the fight should have been over. Merlin was defenseless and should have yielded. Instead, the boy just stood there, staring at him. Arthur brought his mace crashing down, exploding the wares on a nearby display just next to where Merlin was standing. His intention was to startle the boy into speaking his surrender... and yes, he was showing off. Arthur was disappointed. In himself more than anything. What was he doing, thinking a peasant could offer him a challenge? But, now he could be gracious and end the fight proper He'd have to pay the vendor for his wares and any other damages later. This wasn't Arthur's first fight in the market. The vendors knew if their stock was involved, they'd come out ahead at the end of the day.

This wasn't Merlin's first market fight either. Instead of being frightened, Merlin took advantage of the split second Arthur had been carried by the momentum of the weapon and ducked behind him, further into the market. The timing was perfect, it was a skill Arthur hadn't expected the boy to possess. Arthur underestimated his opponent. That rarely happened these days.

In the open area of the square, Arthur had had the advantage, but in the stalls there were too many things for for his mace to get tangled up in, too many things to trip over. A smile spread across the boy's face. He looked more like someone who was going on he offensive instead of someone dodging blows to save his life.

All too late, Arthur understood what was going on. He had made an elementary blunder. He had let Merlin had take control of the fight. Arthur may have had a mace for a weapon, but Merlin had the use of the entire market. He understood the game they were playing now. The game they had been playing right from the beginning. Merlin hadn't retreated into the stalls, he'd lead Arthur right into them.

Arthur smiled. He didn't have to hold back anymore. He wanted to see how fast the rabbit could run.

~`0\~/0'~

"I can't believe you fell for that." Leon said, slapping the table. "The boy's a rabbit, isn't he."

"And a very good one, " Arthur laughed. "Trust me, he was enjoying himself."

"You didn't define that as a one on one fight, he did!"

'Apparently." Arthur took another swallow of mead.

"What's a rabbit?" Owain asked. "I mean, aside from a good dinner."

"The Rabbit and the Wolf? Didn't you ever listen to your bedtime stories?" Dennis teased.

Owain thought for a moment. "Is that the one where the rabbit's being chased by the wolf, and the rabbit leads the wolf right into the wolf trap?"

"That's the one." Leon said. "Merlin's from a small village, right?"

"Right," Owain agreed, still not getting it.

Leon tried to explain it to him. "Small villages don't have much defense. A patrol comes through, or a horde of bandits, they do what their told, or surrender and lick their wounds later."

Dennis picked up the story. "But if only one or two trouble makers comes passing through, thinking he's a big man, then they've got a chance." Denis finished.

"They get their fastest kid-" Leon continued

"-One who's a bit cheeky," Arthur added

"-and they send him out to goad the big man-a.k.a. the wolf-into a fight."

"Hence,_ the rabbit_." The three elder knights said together.

"How is that supposed to even work?" Owain asked, still confused.

Arthur shook his head. "What am I always telling you in weapons training? It doesn't matter how strong your opponent is or how big his weapon. Fast beats slow. It's the first rule of combat."

"And the second rule of combat is never let your opponent take control of the fight." Leon clipped back.

"He didn't have control of the fight!" Arthur lied again. "I knew what game we were playing the whole time."

Leon wasn't buying that. He turned back to Sir Owain. "The rabbit goads the wolf's into taking continuous swings at him, but as long as the rabbit's faster-"

"-All the wolf's doing is swinging at air and wearing himself down." Dennis finished.

Owain was catching on. "Merlin took his coat off, that made him faster."

Leon nodded. "Nothing extra to get caught up in the stalls."

"And he dropped the mace." Dennis said. "The less weight he's carrying the less energy it takes to move."

"Once the rabbit get's the wolf worn down enough, he leads him into a trap to where the rest of the villagers are waiting with their hoe's and pitchforks. Then they give the wolf a good beating and run him out of town."

"Okay, what happened yesterday makes a whole lot more sense now." Owain said. He just realized something. "The boy's used to being one of the defenders of his village." He glanced at Arthur. "And when he _mistakenly_ interpreted our training session with Thomas-"

"-The instincts kicked in." Arthur hadn't made that connection before either, but Owain was right.

"And then you hand him a one on one battle all gift wrapped." Leon smiled at his brilliant prince.

"It worked out better than I'd planned." Arthur said, and it really had for his hidden purposes as well. "Turned out he wasn't completely defenseless and the kid got to show off some of his moves. That's what you want from a truce fight."

"_Really?_" Leon gave Arthur a look of total disbelief. Arthur swallowed another sip of mead. No telling what the older knight was going to tell his father about all this in the morning.

"But I still don't understand." Owain said. "You said the goal of the rabbit was to lead the wolf into a trap where the rest of the village was waiting. He wasn't on home ground. There were no waiting villagers. Why start the game in the first place? How did he figure it was going to end?"

"Yeah, well..." That was something Arthur hadn't thought of at the time either. They weren't exactly playing Rabbit and the Wolf. Merlin had invented a variation to the game. It was more like Badger and the Wolf. Third rule of combat: Never do what your opponent was expecting. Owain was wrong. Merlin did have one villager in waiting. Himself.

~`0\~/0'~

_Damn!_ Arthur thought as his mace crashed through yet another stall. Again, Merlin dodged in a direction Arthur didn't want him to go. This fight was going to cost him a small fortune. Merlin could keep this up all day. He had nothing to weigh him down _and he was sixteen!_ If Arthur wasn't careful, he'd wear out before the boy did. If that happened... the boy could actually... win. Arthur couldn't let that happen. He had to get the boy cornered somehow, before he did something stupid _like tripping over a bucket and and dropping his weapon_, and Merlin did something stupid _like picking it up_.

It was then that Arthur realized the second mistake he had made...well, actually, it was the first. He'd made right in the beginning. But then, he never thought things would get this far. Even though he had started the fight, this wasn't a field of combat, Merlin wasn't a knight, and Arthur was no ordinary man. Merlin may have known the first rule of combat-and the second and the third-but he didn't know the laws of Camelot. If Arthur actually lost the fight, if he yielded to Merlin... if the Prince of Camelot actually yielded to a commoner who was _threatening him with a swinging mace over his head..._

~`0\~/0'~

"Were you trying to get the physician's ward executed for treason?" Leon asked.

"No! Of course not!" Arthur said emphatically. "That never would have happened."

"He asked you to yield, it kind of did."

"Asked, not demanded. And technically, he didn't ask me to yield, he asked me to give up. A minor difference, true, but still not the same thing."

"Arthur..."

"My fight, my rules. Besides, I didn't yield."

"Arthur!"

"I've yielded fights to you before."

"During a tournament. That's not the same thing."

"It is if I say it is. Hence the brilliance of my plan."

Leon slumped onto the table and banged his head on it a few times.

"Why would I yield?" Arthur asked him. "I was never in danger of Merlin hitting me with that mace. He didn't even know how to use it. His swing was slow. That put me on the quick side."

Arthur was lying again. Someone, somewhere _had_ shown Merlin how to use a mace. He wasn't very practiced at it, but that was the beauty of the mace. If you had the right stance, got your swing timed...

~`0\~/0'~

Throughout the fight, Arthur had been attacking with an over hand swing. It was slower, and it telegraphed where the attack would land, but it delivered a harder blow. It was showier, scarier-better if you were trying to drive a normal person who should be afraid of such things in a particular direction.

Merlin was using an underhand attack. The blow, when it came wouldn't be as strong, as Merlin wouldn't be putting the force of his whole body into it. Just his arm and the momentum of the spin. It _did_ mean the Merlin could adjust where he wanted the strike to land mid-swing-if he knew what he was doing and wasn't just imitating something he had seen back home. Arthur did a quick evaluation. Merlin's stance was good, just not solid. Not entirely grounded on his back foot as it should have been as Merlin was holding the mace behind his body. But the lines were perfect... and Merlin had shown some quick, tactical thinking. He couldn't risk underestimating the boy again.

The fact that Merlin wasn't increasing the momentum meant he thought they were still playing a game. But Arthur couldn't be sure it was a game Merlin would actually try to win if his downed man didn't yield. Arthur had a much wider danger zone to avoid if he were going to try his own shot at being the rabbit. In a real fight, Arthur would have charged his opponent, grappling him at his midsection. But if he did that, getting hit by the mace would be unavoidable, even if accidental. The physics of swinging balls would see to that. All it would take was one scratch from Merlin to seal the boy's fate. Physician's ward or not, his father wouldn't tolerate such a thing. From the corner of his eye, Arthur noticed some of the guards were already on the move. This fight definitely was _not_ going to plan.

And then the boy's inexperience played in his favor. Merlin let something in the crowd distract him, only for an instant, but it was enough for Arthur to make a lunge for a nearby broomstick and end the fight decisively before things got out of hand.

When the guards came up to arrest Merlin, it was easily enough to dismiss them. No harm, no fowl. Arthur got to be the gracious winner he intended to be in the first place. He'd even managed to save Merlin's life without the boy knowing... but because he _wasn't_ a prat, he didn't point that out.

~`0\~/0'~

"And you really think this is the end of it?"

"I gave the boy a complement and a pat on the back, then sent him on his way. It was an honor to let him fight me in the first place. Trust me, there are no hard feelings."

And Arthur had learned what he wanted to know. Merlin wouldn't back down, even in the face of fearful things. He was capable of giving Arthur the challenge he'd need to make wise decisions, telling him the truth, even if the Prince of Camelot were being stubborn on a matter. But unlike Garlois, Merlin was a peasant. He couldn't be Arthur's friend. Their relationship would have to be crafted carefully to get Merlin to the point where he would be useful. It could take years. At least, he'd cleared the air between them, like his father had wanted. It was a start... and it _had_ been fun.

Finally, everything could get back to normal in Camelot

~`0\~/0'~

MEANWHILE, SOMEWHERE IN A CAVE DEEP BELOW CAMELOT'S DUNGEONS...

"No, no. You've got this wrong!" Merlin argued with the great winged beast in front of him.

"There is no right or wrong," the dragon insisted patiently. "Only what is and what isn't."

"But I'm serious! If anyone wants to go and kill him, they can go ahead. In fact, I'll give them a hand."

The dragon laughed, sending strange echos throughout the vast cavern. "None of us can choose our destiny, Merlin, and none of us can escape it."

"No. No way. No. No." Merlin was going to remain firm on this. "There must be another Arthur because this one's an idiot."

~`0\~/0'~

... AND YET SOMEWHERE ELSE IN THE CITADEL...

Uther Pendragon had expected his evening dinner to be pleasant, but it was turning into something delightful. He hadn't expected the light, flirtatious banter he'd suddenly found himself sharing with Lady Helen.

"Well, perhaps I'll find love again. But I'm afraid it's too late to replace Arthur's mother."

Lady Helen smiled back. "Yes. It's certainly too late for Arthur."

~`0\~/0'~

Getting ready for bed that night felt strange. Thomas entered his chambers as he always had done for the past three years, prim and proper, not saying much. He poured Arthur his nightly goblet of chamomile tea to ease his sleep. Thomas set it on his desk, next to some papers.

"What are these?" Arthur asked, looking at the papers.

"From your father. It's the approved list of possibilities for my replacement." Thomas told his master as he helped him ready for bed. "I'll be leaving in a few days, you'll want the new boy trained proper before then."

Strange thought, that. By next this time next week, someone else would have the job of catering to his pratish princely whims. Absently, he looked through the list, wondering whom it might be. The names meant nothing to him. _Someone boring, most probably_.

Guiltily, he remembered he hadn't actually gotten Thomas anything in the market as a farewell gift. That's when he was struck with yet another, brilliant idea. Arthur downed the last of his tea and handed the goblet back to Thomas.

"Here," he said. "I want you to keep that, as a token of ... appreciation for your years of service."

Thomas stared at his master wide eyed. The cup Arthur was offering him was part of the royal collection. It was made from solid gold with the royal seal of Camelot etched on the front and embedded with silver.

"Sire, I can't take this."

"Sure you can," Arthur insisted. "You've filled it enough times. You can tell your patrons that they are getting service fit for Royalty, and that will be the proof... or you can have it melted down for the gold if the times get hard."

"But Sire-... Thank you, Sire." Thomas said. He took the cup, though Arthur could tell his servant was worried. Thomas would never tell him the truth- what the mistake was he had just made that made his gift more grief than joy. His servant simply accepted the gift, willing to accept the unknown consequences in silence and let his prince think he was being magnanimous.

_What? What am I missing?_ Arthur thought. What was wrong with giving Thomas the cup? What was wrong with giving a peasant a very expensive cup from his former master's collection to take with him on the road... _Arthur, you're an idiot._

"I'll clear it with the staff, no one will thing you've stolen it." Arthur assured his servant. "Wait, give it back. I should have it engraved. Then there can be no question. I'll give you a note and you can take it to the engraver's in the morning."

Thomas handed the cup back. "Thank you, Sire."

"Thank you... and... have a good life."

"We will." Thomas smiled. Arthur couldn't remember seeing the man smile like that before. "Good night, Sire."

"Good night, Thomas."

That felt right. Not only right, it felt ... good. Something warm burned deep inside of him. Somewhere down the line, Arthur was going to have to visit Thomas and Sophie in their little tavern and he'd ask for a drink from this cup again, for old times sake. It would be a night their children, and their whole village would remember. A golden night. Thomas would have stories to tell for years. It was a good gift.

"So much for me being a prat."


	5. Chapter 5: On the Edge

**A/N I was hoping to get to the end of the episode this time out, but a busy month and a few things I wanted to include ran this one longer than I thought and I didn't rush the conclusion of Thomas's subplot. This story is going to continue past Ep 1. **

**ShadowChylde: I caught the Lady Helen/Helena thing, but I don't know why I didn't think to check the credits for the official names of Arthur's servant and the Lady Helen's maid. Grrr! I'm going to go back and change "Sophie" to "Brownyn" (and fix the Helen thing), but the name "Thomas" is too embedded in the story at this point and appears in other review. So in order to prevent confusion, I'm keeping Arthur's servant name as "Thomas" in this story. Thanks for the spot!**

**~`0\~/0'~ ~`0\~/0'~ ~`0\~/0'~**

The day had started simple enough, with the rays of the morning sun gently coaxing him to his senses from the soft, cushy cloud of last night's libations. Vaguely, he was aware of a light whisper emanating from the side of his bed.

"My lord?"

The words repeated, sounding a bit more anxious this time "_My lord?_"

It was then that Arthur realized, with a sudden start, that the angle of those gentle morning rays were slanted far too high. Arthur threw off his covers and glared at his manservant. Thomas had gotten into the habit of letting Arthur sleep until he woke naturally. Normally, this wasn't a problem. Most mornings he could make up any lost time by rushing through the breakfast choices Thomas brought to his room and hurrying the boy along getting him dressed. Most mornings he hadn't spent the night before getting giddy on mead. Most mornings he wasn't to have breakfast with his father in preparation for one of the more important traditions of Camelot to mark the day of the capture of the Great Dragon and the defeat of Magic's hold on the good people of the kingdom. This morning, of all mornings, it mattered that he was running late.

"Why didn't you wake me earlier?"

"I-I tried, my lord" Thomas stuttered.

"How? By whispering 'my lord' at the side of my bed for half an hour?" Arthur threw off his covers and quickly stood up. He hoped his next servant wouldn't have such timid habits. So what if he did have a bad temper in the morning. It was no excuse to embarrass him in the eyes of his father. Uther was never late for anything. He'd spent his formative years on the battlefield, fighting for his life against the usurper Vortigern to regain the throne of Britain from his traitorous hands. Always on the move. Sleeping through the slightest noise or pass the appointed hour to move the camp would have meant death. Arthur had no such challenges on his life to encourage such sharp senses of the dawn.

"I-I-I" Thomas's stuttering grew worse. Nervously, he handed Arthur a cup of water then left to fetch Arthur's undertunic from the table where he had lain out all of Arthur's finest armor.

Arthur didn't have time for this, and he certainly wasn't in the mood for a stuttering servant, not with the pounding in his head reminding him of just how much mead he'd drunk the night before. He threw the cup, water and all, at the back of the boy's head. It was a tribute to he aftermath of his libations that the cup missed Thomas's head but clipped his shoulder instead, before clanging down on the stone floor. The back of Thomas's neck, though was pleasingly drenched. "Get a move on, man!" Arthur bellowed. "Even if I went to breakfast in my night clothes I'd still be late!"

Without missing a beat, Thomas picked the cup up off the floor and refilled it with water. He re-offered it to Arthur, along with a small vial.

"What's this?" Arthur asked.

"Hangover remedy. I picked it up from Gaius on my way here this morning." Thomas said. "It's a bit vile smelling, but it should be safe. Probably need the water afterward, though."

"Why wouldn't it be safe?"

"N-no reason. Just because you haven't been getting on with his ward, that's no reason for Gaius to-not to say he would, Gaius is completely loyal to-"

"Enough!" Arthur bellowed, and immediately regretted it. "I wouldn't expect you to understand. Just get my clothes." Merlin had had fun during that fight, Arthur recognized the look in his eyes. Most likely he had been as exhilarated from that fight as Arthur'd been. He and Gaius had probably had a good laugh about it afterward. At the same time, Arthur knew a certain amount of animosity had to exist between him and the physicians ward. Couldn't have the boy become enamored with his charm and turn into just another lackey. He'd never get the truth from Merlin at that rate. If the boy had some bile left over in him from the fight, then good. '_Let it simmer til I need an honest answer'_, Arthur thought. The next time they'd meet, Arthur would know if Merlin was up to the task.

Arthur downed the potion, then was glad Thomas had given him he water. The stuff tasted worse than it smelled but it wasn't long before the rough edges of his hangover softened and fog faded from his reason. Reasonable enough anyway to notice the new formed dent in his drinking cup, the cup he had meant to give Thomas as a going away present. "I'll see you get another cup." Arthur said.

"No need, my lord," Thomas said, He took the the cup and ran his finger along the dent. "It's more appropriate this way. I mean, considering how many times it's been ... airborne. It's good memories."

"All right," Arthur said. "It's your gift." Thomas hurriedly pulled Arthur's night shirt off over his head and replaced it with his red tunic. "And I'm getting along fine with the physician's ward."

"Of course my lord." Thomas agreed as he slipped a pair of black trousers up Arthur's legs. "I was wondering, Sire, since you won't have need of me during the initiation this moaning if I could have the time off?"

"You're getting the rest of your life off, what to you need with a couple of hours?"

"Wedding plans," Thomas beamed. "Need to clear the wedding grounds of debris before the big day." His fingers stopped mid sentence as he was fastening the buckles on Arthur's voiders. "We're getting married in this beautiful little glen in the woods, just on the other side of the creek where it shallows out and the sunlight still bright as it filter's through the trees. The leaves should be quite lovely next week." Thomas's expression changed as he noticed Arthur staring at him. "You're invited of course," he said, puzzled.

"Fine," Arthur said, "but I'd like to make it to breakfast first."

Thomas blinked, realizing what he was doing- or rather, not doing with the buckles- "Of-of course, Sire!" He quickly finished getting an impatient Arthur into his armor.

Arthur ran to his chamber door as soon as he heard the last snap pop into place place. Turning back he said "And yes, you can have the morning off," then sprinted down the corridor towards the Council Chamber to meet his his father's disappointment at his tardiness for breakfast. Vaguely, he registered that Thomas was calling after him that he'd forgotten something. Whatever he'd forgotten would have to be dealt with at another time

~`0\~/0'~

Arthur took a moment to compose himself before entering the Council Chamber. It was one thing to be late, quite another to admit it.. Technically, as Prince, Arthur was never late for anything, except when his father was in attendance. Anyone who arrived after him, they were the late ones. Everyone else was simply early. He took a deep breath, to prepare for his father's onslaught and was about to open signal the guard to open the door when a heavy, armored hand clanked onto his shoulder.

Only years of training kept Arthur from jumping out of his skin. As it was he didn't even flinch, hand instinctively reaching for his short sword. He spun round, only to see his father, dressed in his finest battle regalia. Uther was smiling at him. Nice pleasant grin on his face. Arthur blinked.

"Morning Arthur. Lovely day today isn't it? "Uther said ... what was that... cheerily? Arthur had never really heard his father speak cheerily before. It was hard to tell if this were genuine cheeriness or the beginnings of some sort of trap. History routed for a trap, but his instincts were telling Arthur something else was up. What it was though, he couldn't quite fathom.

"Ah, yes, quite.. lovely." Arthur agreed. Best to keep the conversation pleasant as long as possible.

"Sire," the guard at the door said. "A messenger has returned from one of the outlying patrols."

"Good," Uther said. "Send him in after the Lady Morgana has left."

"Yes sire.".

Arthur and Uther entered he chamber together. Morgana was already seated at the table, looking a bit peckish. As was tradition, the servants wouldn't serve breakfast until the king arived. Morgana had gotten here on time this morning... or rather, early as Uther had just arrived, and the smell of the morning's delights was obviously getting to her. Served her right.

It wasn't fair for Morgana to be on time all the time. She had no reason in her life not to sleep until noon and Gwen had all that girl stuff to do to get her ready for the morning. Yet, there she sat, looking devastatingly beautiful. Her hair in perfect soft curls that fell gently off her shoulder, a light hint of blush on her pale cheeks, her lips that perfect shade of red. But it was her eyes that always captivated Arthur, like green emeralds glittering in the candlelight. Everyone thought they would eventually wind up together, Camelot's perfect couple. So why was it every time he tried to talk to her it always came out wrong? Why did they always end up arguing? The way they argued... sometimes it was like they really _were_ brother and sister.

Morgana kept her eyes on him. As angry as she had been the day before, true to form, a night's sleep and the promise of a party where she could devastate all the young men of Camelot had brightened her mood. Apparently she decided to practice being devastating early this morning. Arthur turned away before he started to blush.

And met Gwen's hard stare as she filled Morgana's water glass. Obviously, she had heard about the skirmish he'd had with her boyfriend and had misinterpreted events just as Thomas had. Servants, really. What was it his father had called them? Unfortunate necessities? Sometimes, Arthur felt his father was right.

As they down, Morgana, thankfully, turned her attention to Uther. "Did you have a nice dinner with Lady Helen last night?"

"Yes, she's a remarkable woman," Uther said in a dreamy lilt that disturbingly reminded him of Thomas's mood as of late.

"Perhaps we should have her sing here more often." Morgana said.

"That's a splendid idea," Uthur agreed.

Arthur stared at his father perplexed. This wasn't the conversation his racing adrenalin had prepared him for during his run breakfast. He remembered the joking conversation Sir Dennis and Sir Owain had had yesterday in the market. Could it be true? Was his father really smitten by Lady Helen? Was this gushy cheeriness really what his father was like when he was smitten? Morgana glanced up at him and smirked while she buttered her muffin as if to say "idiot." Arthur hated it when she did that.

"Arthur, did you get a chance to look over that list of servant candidates?" Uther asked.

Arthur nearly choked on a mouthful of scrambled eggs. That's what he had forgotten back in his chamber. "Still studying it." he replied.

"Just pick a name, Arthur. It shouldn't be that hard." Uther sighed.

"But... I just want to make sure I pick the right one this time." Arthur said. "Thomas was fine and all with the standard duties, but there were certain areas that I found him... lacking. I want to be sure my next servant meets all my needs."

"Oh? What needs would those be?" Uthur asked.

"I just..." Arthur thought how he wanted to phrase this. The concept of what he was searching for was a new one. He hadn't really put it into words yet. "I just want someone who can keep up."

After breakfast, Morgana excused herself. Arthur knew that as much as the creature underneath Camelot had always fascinated her, it intimidated her more so. Not once did she ever ask... well, Morgana being Morgana, not once did she ever insist to accompany them on this annual journey. But Arthur knew her too well. One day, her fascination would win out. Arthur wondered what his father's response would be. Would he let his darling ward anywhere near something as dangerous as the Great Dragon? This wouldn't be the year he found out.

The patrols messenger entered as Morgana left and stood at the far end of the table.

"Your Majesties."

"What news have you brought?" Uther asked.

"We scoured the markets of the lesser towns in the West country where the Collins woman was from. Someone thought they might have seen her in Greenswood but we found no evidence of magic there. We did uncover 4 vendors dealing in illegal goods in other towns and the people in Hillsdale in the Western Ales reported a fifth who had recently been murdered. They were quite happy to be rid of him by the sound of it."

"A sad tale," Uther said. "But it would seem the mystery of where the Mary Colins got the magical device has been solved." The King folded his napkin on his plate, signaling his servant to remove his plate. "Occasionally some merchants will come across these magical item-relics of a bygone age, and instead of reporting it as is their duty, see it as their ticket to a comfortable retirement. But instead of paying for the old woman simply dispatched the merchant and took the item. She must have thought to bring it here in an attempt to free her son but arrived too late. See to it the story is spread. Perhaps we can save some other merchant from this fate. Sorcerers are not to be trusted in their dealings."

"It shall be done, Sire," The messenger said.

"How do you know the woman stole the item? Couldn't she have made it herself?" Arthur asked. Arthur knew very little about magic. He took every opportunity he could to get his father's insight on the matter.

"Such relics were made with a powerful magic." Uther told him. "That magic no longer exists, swept away with the Great Purge. Trust me, if it did exist, Camelot would be facing horrors you could not possibly imagine. That is why we must remain vigilant, not let magic regain even the slightest foothold."

"I understand, Father," Arthur said.

"No, you don't" Uther replied. "And I pray you never will."

Uthur marched out of the Chambers and Arthur followed close at his heals. Some of his father's cheeriness had drifted away with the talk of magic. Magical discussions always had that effect on Uther. Still, it had been and odd thing for his father to say, considering where they were headed today. The Great Dragon was supposed to be magic's greatest threat. Confronting it each year was all about understanding that threat. What was it about magic his father was deliberately keeping from him?

~`0\~/0'~

It had become a tradition on the morning of the anniversary of the capture of the Great Dragon, for all new knights achieving that honor within the past year, to gather in the Great Hall after breakfast. Any other knight free of duty who wished to attend could as well. This was an initiation of sorts, unique to Camelot amongst all the kingdoms of Albion.

The knights had been milling around for a bit by the time the King and Arthur entered the hall. Uther stood in front of his chair and Arthur stood next to him, slightly behind. The new knights jumped a bit when the king entered, to the amusement of the older knights who had been through this before. Still, there was much tension in the air. What was about to happen, where they were about to be led, was no small matter.

Uther addressed the assembly of around 50 men. Of them, Arthur noted, only 30 were new knights. Thirty new knights to replace the 100 they had lost last year. That didn't even count the soldiers pledged from the lesser lords who'd lost their lives in the boarder skirmishes with Bayard and Alined's men. He could only hope between next year's crop of candidates and the peace talks scheduled for next year, the shortage could be mended. What other choice did they have?

"The Knights of Camelot are the bravest, most noble knights in all the land." Uther began. Arthur knew the speech by heard, he'd heard it since he was old enough to walk. Only this time he was starting to suspect there was something else hidden behind his father's words. "No foe can defeat us, no horror will frighten us away. For we have conquered all who have tried to defeat us, faced all the worst Sorcery has thrown at us, Captured it's worse nightmare and locked it away beneath our feet. Today, you shall come face to face with this nightmare. Know that there is nothing more frighting in all of magic that you could face more than this creature. That in conquering this fear, the might of dragons, the knights of Camelot can face and conquer all that oppose us."

_'What is it? What is it you're _not_ saying, father?'_ Arthur wondered.

A guard opened a small door in the wall behind the throne and in the furthermost right corner from he viewpoint of the men about to make this journey. If you weren't looking for it, you wouldn't even know the door was there. Uther lead the procession through the door, and down a winding stairwell. Every third man was given a torch, for he way was dark. Finally, they came to a large, locked iron door. Uther pulled the key from his belt and unsealed the door. Stepping through, the men found themselves surrounded by the rough hune walls of the caves underneath Camelot.

The tunnel they walked through opened up to a chamber of sorts, The new knights were ushered to the edge of the large circular hole in the center of the floor and found it overlooking the depths of vast cavern below, the walls aglow with phosphorescent stone. In it's center, a well worn stalagmite grew from the cavern's floor well below.

Uther leaned over the edge and bellowed "Dragon, Show yourself! Appear now before your King and Master." A great beating of wings sounded and a rush of wind filled in through the hole in the chamber floor. He glanced at his knights. New and old alike gasped in awe at the sight as the great creature alighted on the stlagmight below them them, needing every inch of it for it's perch.

"That's a dragon!" someone said, stating the obvious. Even in it's depths, the power and danger the creature held could not be ignored. Some of the veterans visibly trembled at the sight. Arthur had learned to control those vibrations in himself before he had fought in his first tournament.

"Another year already, is it Uther?" the dragon rasped. The new knights gasped. They didn't expect the thing to talk. "What is it you wish to know this time?"

"What lies ahead for Camelot this year. What dangers do we face from your kind?" Uther demanded of the beast. The men looked upon Uther in awe. That he would dare give such orders to a dragon.

"Uther, if you wanted a seer I suggest you look to your own kind. I am the last of mine." The dragon chuckled.

_'Great, the dragon's in a jovial mood as well,' _Arthur thought. He wondered what could have brought that on. Nothing good, that was for sure. As impressed with his father's domination of the dragon, Arthur couldn't help his attention drifting to the small ledge jutting out next to the dragon's perch. Up here they were protected by distance, the dragon's chains wouldn't allow it to fly this high up. Last year, Arthur had conducted his own investigation of the lower ledge and found out, long ago, before the time when the dragons revealed their treachery by destroying [CITY], it was on that ledge that the Kings of Camelot would stand with the Court Sorcerer address a free dragon come to give it's veiled council. What would it be like to stand on that ledge, that close to a dragon. What bravery would it take? On the day the Great Dragon was captured, Arthur learned, his father _had_ been standing on that ledge.

"You know what I meant," Uther bellowed at the dragon. "The magical kind."

"Ah, you mean in the broader sense. My focus was much more narrow. How can I know anything of the magical world trapped here for he past... what is it now, 19 years?"

"Twenty!" Sir Leon yelled. The other veteran knights laughed. In this gathering he was not out of line to do so. The object was to embolden the younger knights in the face of magic, not let them wallow in all of their king's bravery. It was the older knight's job to instruct the younger in this taunting. Arthur never joined in the taunting. It was more than just following his father's lead that a king should be above such things. To Arthur, it seemed a bit... unnecessary.

"Twenty years, and you are still blind, Uther," the dragon sighed. "You look to your future, not your past. Be careful or what was born there, wounded in the dark, will destroy you in a flood of tears."

"Tears are for dragons!" Sir Dennis yelled, inspiring a bigger laugh from the knights.

"And my sorrow is deep," the dragon said in a low rumble, "because I overestimated the tears of Men!" A couple of the others threw loose stones down in the dragon's direction. The beast made no move to avoid them. It narrowed it's eyes, as if dreaming of the fury it would unleash if it ever broke free.

"Enough of your riddles," Uther said, mindless of the threat. "Tell me what I wish to know if you wish to earn your keep."

"My keep," the dragon chuckled again, a more sinister tone to it's drawl this time, "is worth more to you than it is to me."

Swifter than Arthur's eye could follow, the dragon lunged from it's perch, flying as high is its heavy chain tether would allow. Then it released a pillar of fire that reached up and through the hole in the chamber floor. The knights jumped back just in time, protecting themselves with their shields. The heat was intense, but it wouldn't last long. After years of captivity, the dragon hadn't the strength it once had.

Once the dragon had released the last of it's fire, the older knights began laughing again. "Is that all you've got dragon?" someone shouted. The other knights joined in, their laughter and taunts echoing through the cavern below.

Uthur returned to the edge of the hole and the knights fell silent. "Tell me what I wish to know, dragon," Uther said, a calm to his voice that made the hairs on the back of Arthur's neck stand up. At times, his father could be much more frightening than the pathetic creature below. It was a skill Arthur knew he had yet to master.

"You wish to know what threats lie before you," the dragon said, a definite, resigned lilt residing where the fire had once been. "Twenty years. Your son and grown into a young man in that time. So have other parents' sons. You need look no further than that."

Uther thought for a moment. Whatever the dragon had said meant something to him, but Arthur couldn't fathom what. "Very well. You have earned your rations for the year, dragon." With that, Uther left the edge of the hole and exited the chamber. The other knights followed and Arthur stayed behind to make sure all had left before the way was sealed once more.

_"Arthur?...Arthur?"_

The words were faint. He wasn't even sure he was hearing his name. The other knights carried on their conversations, still euphoric from the adrenalin rush of facing the dragon's fire.

_"Arthur, pleeeeese!"_ Arthur hung back, waiting for the others to leave. Once before the dragon had called to him, when he was thirteen. The conversation hadn't gone well. It ended in the dragon trying to convince him to kill his father. But what the dragon had said before that had helped him in the first negotiations has father had trusted to him. It had seemed a small thing at the time, but resulted in Arthur not making a mistake which could have caused a war with Nemeth.

"What?" Arthur whispered as he eyed the last of the knights leaving the chamber. Experience told him the dragon could hear him. Dragons ears heard many whispers. He wouldn't have much time to catch up to the end of the group before his father realized he'd lagged behind.

_"The road ahead is riddled with fools. Danger lies where you least expect it, but so does salvation," _Arthur alone heard the dragon say. _"The Great Prophecy has begun to unfold. Camelot's brightest days lie ahead , but there will be many trials before those days can be earned. Many joys, and many sorrows."_

"Enough of this!" Arthur did his best to yell in a whispered voice. "I will not betray my father." He started to leave.

_"I'm not asking you to."_ the dragon said, _"But know this. I have given to Camelot's greatest king the only gift I have left. A most precious thing, a wisdom which will serve him loyally. If the Great King proves himself worthy of this wisdom, Camelot will flourish in the memory of men through millennia to come. If this wisdom is squandered and swept aside, Camelot will fall to the wayside, a forgotten land amongst forgotten lands, and all that she promised to be, all the knowledge and wisdom and love for it's people it will acquire and inspire will be forgotten as well. That choice is for the Great King to make, not mine. Choose wisely. Arthur!"_ With that the dragon took off in a rush of wings, disappearing in cavern below.

Arthur hurried on to catch up with the others, his mind puzzled on the dragon's words. The dragon had just asked him to choose, but it had also said that the choice was for the Great King to make. Surly that was Uther, not him. Arthur shook his head. His father had told him never pay attention to the dragon's nonsense. Dragons spoke in riddles filled with half truths veiled words meant to be misleading. It was all lies bent on manipulation. The only thing that dragon wanted was Camelot's destruction. Arthur decided would choose wisely.

He chose not to listen.


End file.
